


naught but a scar upon your breastbone

by Yellow



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: hadrian dreams of samot and then samothes, and considers possession





	naught but a scar upon your breastbone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aubades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubades/gifts).



> happy happy birthday dora!!!!!
> 
> title from the crane wives's "october": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GuKZq43-AY

Samot laced his hands around Hadrian’s middle and he blinked awake. He was in a room he didn’t remember falling asleep in, standing in front of the fire. The ring rested against his chest, chain cool on his skin, and around his shoulders was the white cloak. It was soft, soft like Samot’s hair, spilling onto his shoulder. He almost couldn’t tell the difference.

“Where-”

“You kept the cloak,” Samot said, soft, rubbing against him. He was a little shorter, just tall enough to rest his head on Hadrian’s shoulder. He was warm. Hadrian slowly realized he was naked, as Samot’s robes brushed against the back of his legs. He didn’t mind, in a slow, detached way. His mind was hazy and warm and Samot felt good, pressed against him.

“Of course I did,” Hadrian said, tongue slow and clumsy. Samot kissed his neck, and Hadrian tipped his head back, sighed. The ring bounced on his chest, slight.

“You kept the ring,” Samot said, after a moment, considering.

“Of course,” Hadrian said, sighing as Samot nipped his neck.

“Call to him.”

This shocked Hadrian enough to snap him out of the warm haze, if only a little.

“What?”

He turned, slight. Samot kept his arms around him.

“You want him here, yes?” Samot looked at him, put a hand to his cheek, smiled, sad. “So do I.”

Hadrian closed his eyes and prayed, thought about the warm fire at his back, the way the ring felt, heavy on the chain. And then Samot breathed out and there was a presence at his back.

Hadrian opened his eyes and saw Samot’s face change, from suspicion to relief, joy, even. “Husband,” he breathed.

And then Samothes put a hand on Hadrian’s hair, stroked down to his cheek. He took his face in his hands and he kissed him, slow, unrelenting, until only Samot as his back was keeping Hadrian standing.

He gasped when they pulled apart, and Samothes smiled, looked him in the eye.

“You’re wearing my ring,” he said, pleased.

Hadrian panted, tried to kneel. Samot kept him standing, and he looked at Samothes.

“Not on my finger, my Lord, I’m sorry-”

Samothes cradled his face with a hand and Hadrian leaned into it.

“You still call for me,” he said, quiet. “You still love me.”

“Yes,” Hadrian gasped, “yes, more than anything, my Lord,” and Samot laughed into his neck. His hand crept around to Hadrian’s dick, exposed and half-hard, already, and Hadrian gasped when Samot touched him.

Samothes grabbed his wrist and pulled him around Hadrian.

“Not yet,” he said, and kissed Samot, filthy, hand on his ass. Hadrian watched, gaping. Samot pulled back, pupils blown. He looked at Samothes like a predator, like he wanted to cut him open and crawl inside. Samothes smoothed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead.

Then, he turned back to Hadrian.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said, “and Samot will watch.”

To Hadrian’s surprise, he didn’t protest, just stood there, every muscle tensed, watching them both intently. And Samothes smiled at him before dragging Hadrian back into a kiss, pulling him close enough that he could feel Samothes’s own erection pressing into him. He gasped as Samothes palmed his ass. The ring pressed into his skin where their chests met and neither made a move to remove it. The cloak stayed on his shoulders and Hadrian sweated, but didn’t shrug it off, didn’t undo the small gold chain.

 

“If you’re not going to let me touch him, at least bite him a little,” Samot said, lazy. Samothes broke away from Hadrian and fisted a hand in Samot’s hair, pushed him to his knees.

“Watch,” he said, and Samot stayed there, mouth quirked up in a smile.

Samothes led Hadrian to the bed, laid him down, careful, and kissed his chest, sucked on his nipples, touched his thighs and stomach and arms until he was shaking.

“Please,” Hadrian said, “please,” and Samothe shushed him.

“Samot,” he said, and then Samot was there with a bottle of oil, and Samothes pushed into Hadrian with a slick finger. Hadrian gasped.

Samot hovered, and Samothes shot him a glance. He folded himself onto his knees.

Samothes added a second finger, scissoring them, and suddenly it felt good. Suddenly it felt inadequate, and Hadrian gasped and bucked his hips when Samothes hit his prostate. Samothes laughed and added a third finger, working him until he was gasping.

“Please,” Hadrian said, “please, please,” and Samothes lined himself up and entered Hadrian, slow. Hadrian gasped.

“It feels good, doesn’t it,” Samot said, breathy. “He’s so big, Hadrian, he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, isn’t that right.”

Hadrian nodded, and Samothes started to move. He took Hadrian’s hand and Hadrian held it. The gesture was sweet and almost out of place and it was the thing that finally moved him to tears, that his god loved him, that his god wanted him.

“Of course I want you, Hadrian,” Samothes said, and Hadrian didn’t know if he had spoken aloud. Samothes groaned as he thrust in again.

“He’s so warm,” Samot said, and Hadrian heard him touching himself, the sound of skin-on-skin. He moaned, low. “He’s hot in you, isn’t he. It’s overwhelming.”

Hadrian nodded, crying, moaning, “Please, faster,” and Samothes hooked his leg over his shoulder. The new angle was so _deep_ , and Hadrian moaned, wild.

He could hear Samot breathing, heavy. “It feels good,” Samot said. He moaned again, gasped. “He loves you,” he said, a little choked, and then he came, gasping.

Samothes thrust into Hadrian once, twice more, and came too. He stroked Hadrian’s dick and Hadrian sobbed, came all over his hand and chest. And then the only sound was Hadrian sniffling, the three of them breathing.

Samothes pulled out of Hadrian and cradled him close. The cloak had slipped off his shoulder; Samothes righted it. And then Samot was there, cleaning them up with a warm towel, and he hesitated, just a little, before Samothes pulled him into bed on his other side. Samot clung to him, eyes closed, and took Hadrian’s hand.

Samothes wiped his tears away with his thumbs and eventually Hadrian calmed, curled further into Samothes. He smelled like metal and smoke. It was good. It was right.

“Why don’t you listen when I call?” Hadrian asked, finally, voice thin.

Samothes ran a hand through his hair and he closed his eyes.

“It is sometimes hard to hear, but Hadrian, I am always listening.”

Hadrian breathed in, deep.

“All right,” he said, shaky, and Samothes kissed his forehead, kissed Samot’s hand.

“You’re waking up,” he told Hadrian, and Hadrian could feel the haziness clearing, the dream slipping away.

“No,” he said, and Samot sat up, looked at them both, sad.

“No,” he said again, and the dream evaporated, the room first, then the bed, then everything but that warm press of Samothes against him and Samot’s eyes, piercing. And then there was nothing at all.

 

Hadrian woke, sweating. The ring was usually cold on his skin. Right now, it was hot. He moved it to the side, expecting a burn, expecting a brand. But there was nothing there but smooth skin.

Hadrian thought about the chances Samothes had had to mark him. There were no claims on him, none but his name, none but the cloak and the ring, things he chose and wore and lived.

Maybe, Hadrian thought, to have no brand was a brand in itself. A petty god, a jealous god, would have marked him forever. And Samot was just so arrogant he believed he could not lose.

 

But Samothes-Samothes loved him. And if that was a brand, an obligation, a claim-it was one Hadrian was happy to accept.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up @capricioustube


End file.
